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		<title>The Waste Land</title>
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		<section epub:type="frontmatter" id="frontmatter">
			<section epub:type="titlepage" id="titlepage">
				<h1>The Waste Land</h1>
				<div class="aut">T.S. Eliot</div>
				<div epub:type="epigraph">					
					<p>
						<span xml:lang="la">"Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis
							meis<br />vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent</span>: <br />
						<span xml:lang="grc"
							>&#x03A3;&#x03AF;&#x03B2;&#x03C5;&#x03BB;&#x03BB;&#x03B1;
							&#x03C4;&#x03AF;
							&#x03F4;&#x03AD;&#x03BB;&#x03B5;&#x03B9;&#x03C2;<!--Sibylla ti theleis-->
						</span>; <span xml:lang="la">respondebat illa</span>: <span xml:lang="grc"
							>&#x03AC;&#x03C0;&#x03BF;&#x03F4;&#x03B1;&#x03B3;&#x03B5;&#x1FD6;&#x03B3;
							&#x03F4;&#x03AD;&#x03BB;&#x03E3;<!--apothanein thelo-->
						</span>."</p>
				</div>
				<p epub:type="dedication">For Ezra Pound: <span xml:lang="it">il miglior
						fabbro</span></p>
			</section>
		</section>
		<section epub:type="bodymatter" id="bodymatter">

			<section id="ch1">
				<h2>I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD</h2>
   
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            <mn>2</mn>
            <mo> &#x2061;<!--INVISIBLE TIMES--></mo>
            <mi>x</mi>
         </mrow>
         <mrow>
            <mo>+</mo>
            <mi>y</mi>
            <mo>-</mo>
            <mi>z</mi>
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				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">April is the cruellest month, breeding</span>
					<span class="ln">Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing</span>
					<span class="ln">Memory and desire, stirring</span>
					<span class="ln">Dull roots with spring rain.</span>
					<span class="ln">Winter kept us warm, covering</span>
					<span class="ln">Earth in forgetful snow, feeding</span>
					<span class="ln">A little life with dried tubers.</span>
					<span class="ln">Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee</span>
					<span class="ln">With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,</span>
					<span class="ln">And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,<span class="lnum"
							>10</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.</span>
					<span class="ln" xml:lang="de">Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt
						deutsch.</span>
					<span class="ln">And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,</span>
					<span class="ln">My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,</span>
					<span class="ln">And I was frightened. He said, Marie,</span>
					<span class="ln">Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.</span>
					<span class="ln">In the mountains, there you feel free.</span>
					<span class="ln">I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow</span>
					<span class="ln">Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-1">*</a>,<span class="lnum">20</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">You cannot say, or guess, for you know only</span>
					<span class="ln">A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,</span>
					<span class="ln">And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-2">*</a>,</span>
					<span class="ln">And the dry stone no sound of water. Only</span>
					<span class="ln">There is shadow under this red rock,</span>
					<span class="ln">(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),</span>
					<span class="ln">And I will show you something different from either</span>
					<span class="ln">Your shadow at morning striding behind you</span>
					<span class="ln">Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;</span>
					<span class="ln">I will show you fear in a handful of dust.<span class="lnum"
							>30</span>
					</span>
					<blockquote xml:lang="de">
						<div>
							<span class="ln">Frisch weht der Wind<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
									href="#note-3">*</a>
							</span>
							<span class="ln">Der Heimat zu</span>
							<span class="ln">Mein Irisch Kind,</span>
							<span class="ln">Wo weilest du?</span>
						</div>
					</blockquote>
					<span class="ln">"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;</span>
					<span class="ln">"They called me the hyacinth girl."</span>
					<span class="ln">&#x2015;Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth
						garden,</span>
					<span class="ln">Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not</span>
					<span class="ln">Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither</span>
					<span class="ln">Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,<span class="lnum"
							>40</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Looking into the heart of light, the silence.</span>
					<span class="ln" xml:lang="de">
						<em>Od' und leer das Meer</em>.<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-4">*</a>
					</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,</span>
					<span class="ln">Had a bad cold, nevertheless</span>
					<span class="ln">Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,</span>
					<span class="ln">With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-5">*</a>,</span>
					<span class="ln">Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,</span>
					<span class="ln">(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)</span>
					<span class="ln">Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,</span>
					<span class="ln">The lady of situations.<span class="lnum">50</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,</span>
					<span class="ln">And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,</span>
					<span class="ln">Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,</span>
					<span class="ln">Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find</span>
					<span class="ln">The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.</span>
					<span class="ln">I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.</span>
					<span class="ln">Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,</span>
					<span class="ln">Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:</span>
					<span class="ln">One must be so careful these days.</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">Unreal City<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-6">*</a>,<span
							class="lnum">60</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,</span>
					<span class="ln">A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,</span>
					<span class="ln">I had not thought death had undone so many.<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-7">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-8">*</a>,</span>
					<span class="ln">And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.</span>
					<span class="ln">Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,</span>
					<span class="ln">To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours</span>
					<span class="ln">With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-9">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying
						"Stetson!</span>
					<span class="ln">"You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!<span class="lnum"
							>70</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">"That corpse you planted last year in your garden,</span>
					<span class="ln">"Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?</span>
					<span class="ln">"Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">"Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-10">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">"Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!</span>
					<span class="ln">"You! <span xml:lang="fr">hypocrite lecteur! - mon semblable, -
							mon frere</span> !"<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-11">*</a>
					</span>
				</div>
			</section>
			<section id="ch2">
				<h2>II. A GAME OF CHESS</h2>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-12">*</a>,</span>
					<span class="ln">Glowed on the marble, where the glass</span>
					<span class="ln">Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines</span>
					<span class="ln">From which a golden Cupidon peeped out<span class="lnum"
							>80</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)</span>
					<span class="ln">Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra</span>
					<span class="ln">Reflecting light upon the table as</span>
					<span class="ln">The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,</span>
					<span class="ln">From satin cases poured in rich profusion;</span>
					<span class="ln">In vials of ivory and coloured glass</span>
					<span class="ln">Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,</span>
					<span class="ln">Unguent, powdered, or liquid - troubled, confused</span>
					<span class="ln">And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air</span>
					<span class="ln">That freshened from the window, these ascended<span
							class="lnum">90</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,</span>
					<span class="ln">Flung their smoke into the laquearia<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-13">*</a>,</span>
					<span class="ln">Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.</span>
					<span class="ln">Huge sea-wood fed with copper</span>
					<span class="ln">Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,</span>
					<span class="ln">In which sad light a carved dolphin swam.</span>
					<span class="ln">Above the antique mantel was displayed</span>
					<span class="ln">As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-14">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-15">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-16">*</a>
						<span class="lnum">100</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Filled all the desert with inviolable voice</span>
					<span class="ln">And still she cried, and still the world pursues,</span>
					<span class="ln">"Jug Jug" to dirty ears.</span>
					<span class="ln">And other withered stumps of time</span>
					<span class="ln">Were told upon the walls; staring forms</span>
					<span class="ln">Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.</span>
					<span class="ln">Footsteps shuffled on the stair.</span>
					<span class="ln">Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair</span>
					<span class="ln">Spread out in fiery points</span>
					<span class="ln">Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.<span
							class="lnum">110</span>
					</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<div class="linegroup">
						<span class="ln">"My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.</span>
						<span class="ln">"Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.</span>
						<span class="ln">"What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?</span>
						<span class="ln">"I never know what you are thinking. Think."</span>
					</div>
					<div class="linegroup">
						<span class="ln">I think we are in rats' alley<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
								href="#note-17">*</a>
						</span>
						<span class="ln">Where the dead men lost their bones.</span>
					</div>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">"What is that noise?"</span>
					<span class="ln">The wind under the door.<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-18"
							>*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">"What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?"</span>
					<span class="ln">Nothing again nothing.<span class="lnum">120</span>
					</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">"Do</span>
					<span class="ln">"You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember</span>
					<span class="ln">"Nothing?"</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">I remember</span>
					<span class="ln">Those are pearls that were his eyes.</span>
					<span class="ln">"Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?"<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-19">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">But</span>
					<span class="ln">O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag&#x2015;</span>
					<span class="ln">It's so elegant</span>
					<span class="ln">So intelligent<span class="lnum">130</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">"What shall I do now? What shall I do?"</span>
					<span class="ln">I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street</span>
					<span class="ln">"With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?</span>
					<span class="ln">"What shall we ever do?"</span>
					<span class="ln">The hot water at ten.</span>
					<span class="ln">And if it rains, a closed car at four.</span>
					<span class="ln">And we shall play a game of chess,</span>
					<span class="ln">Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-20">*</a>
					</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said -</span>
					<span class="ln">I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself,<span
							class="lnum">140</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME</span>
					<span class="ln">Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.</span>
					<span class="ln">He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave
						you</span>
					<span class="ln">To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.</span>
					<span class="ln">You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,</span>
					<span class="ln">He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.</span>
					<span class="ln">And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert,</span>
					<span class="ln">He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time,</span>
					<span class="ln">And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I
						said.</span>
					<span class="ln">Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said.<span
							class="lnum">150</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight
						look.</span>
					<span class="ln">HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME</span>
					<span class="ln">If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said.</span>
					<span class="ln">Others can pick and choose if you can't.</span>
					<span class="ln">But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of
						telling.</span>
					<span class="ln">You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.</span>
					<span class="ln">(And her only thirty-one.)</span>
					<span class="ln">I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face,</span>
					<span class="ln">It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.</span>
					<span class="ln">(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.)<span
							class="lnum">160</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">The chemist said it would be all right, but I've never been the
						same.</span>
					<span class="ln">You <em>are</em> a proper fool, I said.</span>
					<span class="ln">Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I
						said,</span>
					<span class="ln">What you get married for if you don't want children?</span>
					<span class="ln">HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME</span>
					<span class="ln">Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot
						gammon,</span>
					<span class="ln">And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it
						hot&#x2015;</span>
					<span class="ln">HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME</span>
					<span class="ln">HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME</span>
					<span class="ln">Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight.<span
							class="lnum">170</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.</span>
					<span class="ln">Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good
						night.</span>
				</div>
			</section>
			<section id="ch3">
				<h2>III. THE FIRE SERMON</h2>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf</span>
					<span class="ln">Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind</span>
					<span class="ln">Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are
						departed.</span>
					<span class="ln">Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-21">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,</span>
					<span class="ln">Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends</span>
					<span class="ln">Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are
						departed.</span>
					<span class="ln">And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;<span
							class="lnum">180</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Departed, have left no addresses.</span>
					<span class="ln">By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . .</span>
					<span class="ln">Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,</span>
					<span class="ln">Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.</span>
					<span class="ln">But at my back in a cold blast I hear</span>
					<span class="ln">The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to
						ear.</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">A rat crept softly through the vegetation</span>
					<span class="ln">Dragging its slimy belly on the bank</span>
					<span class="ln">While I was fishing in the dull canal</span>
					<span class="ln">On a winter evening round behind the gashouse<span class="lnum"
							>190</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Musing upon the king my brother's wreck</span>
					<span class="ln">And on the king my father's death before him.<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-22">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">White bodies naked on the low damp ground</span>
					<span class="ln">And bones cast in a little low dry garret,</span>
					<span class="ln">Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year.</span>
					<span class="ln">But at my back from time to time I hear<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-23">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-24">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.</span>
					<span class="ln">O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-25">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">And on her daughter<span class="lnum">200</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">They wash their feet in soda water</span>
					<span class="ln" xml:lang="fr">
						<em>Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
								href="#note-26">*</a>
						</em>!</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">Twit twit twit</span>
					<span class="ln">Jug jug jug jug jug jug</span>
					<span class="ln">So rudely forc'd.</span>
					<span class="ln">Tereu</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">Unreal City</span>
					<span class="ln">Under the brown fog of a winter noon</span>
					<span class="ln">Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant</span>
					<span class="ln">Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-27">*</a>
						<span class="lnum">210</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">C.i.f. London: documents at sight,</span>
					<span class="ln">Asked me in demotic French</span>
					<span class="ln">To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel</span>
					<span class="ln">Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">At the violet hour, when the eyes and back</span>
					<span class="ln">Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits</span>
					<span class="ln">Like a taxi throbbing waiting,</span>
					<span class="ln">I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-28">*</a>,</span>
					<span class="ln">Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see</span>
					<span class="ln">At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives<span
							class="lnum">220</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-29">*</a>,</span>
					<span class="ln">The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights</span>
					<span class="ln">Her stove, and lays out food in tins.</span>
					<span class="ln">Out of the window perilously spread</span>
					<span class="ln">Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays,</span>
					<span class="ln">On the divan are piled (at night her bed)</span>
					<span class="ln">Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.</span>
					<span class="ln">I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs</span>
					<span class="ln">Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest -</span>
					<span class="ln">I too awaited the expected guest.<span class="lnum">230</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,</span>
					<span class="ln">A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,</span>
					<span class="ln">One of the low on whom assurance sits</span>
					<span class="ln">As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.</span>
					<span class="ln">The time is now propitious, as he guesses,</span>
					<span class="ln">The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,</span>
					<span class="ln">Endeavours to engage her in caresses</span>
					<span class="ln">Which still are unreproved, if undesired.</span>
					<span class="ln">Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;</span>
					<span class="ln">Exploring hands encounter no defence;<span class="lnum"
							>240</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">His vanity requires no response,</span>
					<span class="ln">And makes a welcome of indifference.</span>
					<span class="ln">(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all</span>
					<span class="ln">Enacted on this same divan or bed;</span>
					<span class="ln">I who have sat by Thebes below the wall</span>
					<span class="ln">And walked among the lowest of the dead.)</span>
					<span class="ln">Bestows one final patronising kiss,</span>
					<span class="ln">And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">She turns and looks a moment in the glass,</span>
					<span class="ln">Hardly aware of her departed lover;<span class="lnum"
							>250</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:</span>
					<span class="ln">"Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over."</span>
					<span class="ln">When lovely woman stoops to folly and<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-30">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Paces about her room again, alone,</span>
					<span class="ln">She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,</span>
					<span class="ln">And puts a record on the gramophone.</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">"This music crept by me upon the waters"<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-31">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.</span>
					<span class="ln">O City city, I can sometimes hear</span>
					<span class="ln">Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,<span class="lnum"
							>260</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">The pleasant whining of a mandoline</span>
					<span class="ln">And a clatter and a chatter from within</span>
					<span class="ln">Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls</span>
					<span class="ln">Of Magnus Martyr hold<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-32"
							>*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">The river sweats<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-33">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Oil and tar</span>
					<span class="ln">The barges drift</span>
					<span class="ln">With the turning tide</span>
					<span class="ln">Red sails<span class="lnum">270</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Wide</span>
					<span class="ln">To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.</span>
					<span class="ln">The barges wash</span>
					<span class="ln">Drifting logs</span>
					<span class="ln">Down Greenwich reach</span>
					<span class="ln">Past the Isle of Dogs.</span>
					<span class="ln">Weialala leia</span>
					<span class="ln">Wallala leialala</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">Elizabeth and Leicester<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-34"
							>*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Beating oars<span class="lnum">280</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">The stern was formed</span>
					<span class="ln">A gilded shell</span>
					<span class="ln">Red and gold</span>
					<span class="ln">The brisk swell</span>
					<span class="ln">Rippled both shores</span>
					<span class="ln">Southwest wind</span>
					<span class="ln">Carried down stream</span>
					<span class="ln">The peal of bells</span>
					<span class="ln">White towers</span>
					<span class="ln">Weialala leia<span class="lnum">290</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Wallala leialala</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">"Trams and dusty trees.</span>
					<span class="ln">Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-35">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees</span>
					<span class="ln">Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe."</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">"My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart</span>
					<span class="ln">Under my feet. After the event</span>
					<span class="ln">He wept. He promised 'a new start'.</span>
					<span class="ln">I made no comment. What should I resent?"</span>
					<span class="ln">"On Margate Sands.<span class="lnum">300</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">I can connect</span>
					<span class="ln">Nothing with nothing.</span>
					<span class="ln">The broken fingernails of dirty hands.</span>
					<span class="ln">My people humble people who expect</span>
					<span class="ln">Nothing."</span>
					<span class="ln">la la</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">To Carthage then I came<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-36"
							>*</a>
					</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">Burning burning burning burning<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-37">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">O Lord Thou pluckest me out<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-38">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">O Lord Thou pluckest<span class="lnum">310</span>
					</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">burning</span>
				</div>
			</section>
			<section id="ch4">
				<h2>IV. DEATH BY WATER</h2>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,</span>
					<span class="ln">Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell</span>
					<span class="ln">And the profit and loss.</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">A current under sea</span>
					<span class="ln">Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell</span>
					<span class="ln">He passed the stages of his age and youth</span>
					<span class="ln">Entering the whirlpool.</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">Gentile or Jew</span>
					<span class="ln">O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,<span
							class="lnum">320</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.</span>
				</div>
			</section>
			<section id="ch5">
				<h2>V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAID</h2>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">After the torchlight red on sweaty faces</span>
					<span class="ln">After the frosty silence in the gardens</span>
					<span class="ln">After the agony in stony places</span>
					<span class="ln">The shouting and the crying</span>
					<span class="ln">Prison and palace and reverberation</span>
					<span class="ln">Of thunder of spring over distant mountains</span>
					<span class="ln">He who was living is now dead</span>
					<span class="ln">We who were living are now dying</span>
					<span class="ln">With a little patience<span class="lnum">330</span>
					</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">Here is no water but only rock</span>
					<span class="ln">Rock and no water and the sandy road</span>
					<span class="ln">The road winding above among the mountains</span>
					<span class="ln">Which are mountains of rock without water</span>
					<span class="ln">If there were water we should stop and drink</span>
					<span class="ln">Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think</span>
					<span class="ln">Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand</span>
					<span class="ln">If there were only water amongst the rock</span>
					<span class="ln">Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit</span>
					<span class="ln">Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit<span class="lnum"
							>340</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">There is not even silence in the mountains</span>
					<span class="ln">But dry sterile thunder without rain</span>
					<span class="ln">There is not even solitude in the mountains</span>
					<span class="ln">But red sullen faces sneer and snarl</span>
					<span class="ln">From doors of mudcracked houses</span>
					<div class="linegroup">
						<span class="ln">If there were water</span>
						<span class="ln">And no rock</span>
						<span class="ln">If there were rock</span>
						<span class="ln">And also water</span>
						<span class="ln">And water<span class="lnum">350</span>
						</span>
						<span class="ln">A spring</span>
						<span class="ln">A pool among the rock</span>
						<span class="ln">If there were the sound of water only</span>
						<span class="ln">Not the cicada</span>
						<span class="ln">And dry grass singing</span>
						<span class="ln">But sound of water over a rock</span>
						<span class="ln">Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees<a
								epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-39">*</a>
						</span>
						<span class="ln">Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop</span>
						<span class="ln">But there is no water</span>
					</div>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">Who is the third who walks always beside you?<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-40">*</a>
						<span class="lnum">360</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">When I count, there are only you and I together</span>
					<span class="ln">But when I look ahead up the white road</span>
					<span class="ln">There is always another one walking beside you</span>
					<span class="ln">Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded</span>
					<span class="ln">I do not know whether a man or a woman</span>
					<span class="ln">&#x2015;But who is that on the other side of you?<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-41">*</a>
					</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">What is that sound high in the air</span>
					<span class="ln">Murmur of maternal lamentation</span>
					<span class="ln">Who are those hooded hordes swarming</span>
					<span class="ln">Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth<span
							class="lnum">370</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Ringed by the flat horizon only</span>
					<span class="ln">What is the city over the mountains</span>
					<span class="ln">Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air</span>
					<span class="ln">Falling towers</span>
					<span class="ln">Jerusalem Athens Alexandria</span>
					<span class="ln">Vienna London</span>
					<span class="ln">Unreal</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">A woman drew her long black hair out tight</span>
					<span class="ln">And fiddled whisper music on those strings</span>
					<span class="ln">And bats with baby faces in the violet light<span class="lnum"
							>380</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Whistled, and beat their wings</span>
					<span class="ln">And crawled head downward down a blackened wall</span>
					<span class="ln">And upside down in air were towers</span>
					<span class="ln">Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours</span>
					<span class="ln">And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted
						wells.</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">In this decayed hole among the mountains</span>
					<span class="ln">In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing</span>
					<span class="ln">Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel</span>
					<span class="ln">There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.</span>
					<span class="ln">It has no windows, and the door swings,<span class="lnum"
							>390</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Dry bones can harm no one.</span>
					<span class="ln">Only a cock stood on the rooftree</span>
					<span class="ln">Co co rico co co rico</span>
					<span class="ln">In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust</span>
					<span class="ln">Bringing rain</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves</span>
					<span class="ln">Waited for rain, while the black clouds</span>
					<span class="ln">Gathered far distant, over Himavant.</span>
					<span class="ln">The jungle crouched, humped in silence.</span>
					<span class="ln">Then spoke the thunder<span class="lnum">400</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">DA</span>
					<span class="ln">
						<span xml:lang="sa">Datta</span>: what have we given?<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-42">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">My friend, blood shaking my heart</span>
					<span class="ln">The awful daring of a moment's surrender</span>
					<span class="ln">Which an age of prudence can never retract</span>
					<span class="ln">By this, and this only, we have existed</span>
					<span class="ln">Which is not to be found in our obituaries </span>
					<span class="ln">Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-43">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor</span>
					<span class="ln">In our empty rooms<span class="lnum">410</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">DA</span>
					<span class="ln">
						<span xml:lang="sa">Dayadhvam</span>: I have heard the key<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-44">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Turn in the door once and turn once only</span>
					<span class="ln">We think of the key, each in his prison</span>
					<span class="ln">Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison</span>
					<span class="ln">Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours</span>
					<span class="ln">Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus</span>
					<span class="ln">DA</span>
					<span class="ln">
						<span xml:lang="sa">Damyata</span>: The boat responded</span>
					<span class="ln">Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar<span class="lnum"
							>420</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">The sea was calm, your heart would have responded</span>
					<span class="ln">Gaily, when invited, beating obedient</span>
					<span class="ln">To controlling hands</span>
				</div>
				<div class="linegroup">
					<span class="ln">I sat upon the shore</span>
					<span class="ln">Fishing, with the arid plain behind me<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
							href="#note-45">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">Shall I at least set my lands in order?</span>
					<span class="ln">London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down</span>
					<span class="ln" xml:lang="it">
						<em>Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina</em>
						<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-46">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">
						<span xml:lang="it">
							<em>Quando fiam ceu chelidon</em>
						</span> - O swallow swallow<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-47">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln" xml:lang="fr">
						<em>Le Prince d'Aquitaine a la tour abolie</em>
						<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-48">*</a>
						<span class="lnum">430</span>
					</span>
					<span class="ln">These fragments I have shored against my ruins</span>
					<span class="ln">Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.<a
							epub:type="noteref" class="noteref" href="#note-49">*</a>
					</span>
					<span class="ln" xml:lang="sa">Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.</span>
					<div class="linegroup">
						<span class="ln" xml:lang="sa">Shantih shantih shantih<a epub:type="noteref" class="noteref"
								href="#note-50">*</a>
						</span>
					</div>
				</div>
			</section>
		</section>
		<section epub:type="backmatter" id="backmatter">
			<section epub:type="endnotes">
				<h2>NOTES ON "THE WASTE LAND"</h2>
				<p>Not only the title, but the plan and a good deal of the incidental symbolism of
					the poem were suggested by Miss Jessie L. Weston's book on the Grail legend:
					From Ritual to Romance</p>
				<p>Indeed, so deeply am I indebted, Miss Weston's book will elucidate the
					difficulties of the poem much better than my notes can do; and I recommend it
					(apart from the great interest of the book itself) to any who think such
					elucidation of the poem worth the trouble. To another work of anthropology I am
					indebted in general, one which has influenced our generation profoundly; I mean
					The Golden Bough; I have used especially the two volumes Adonis, Attis, Osiris.
					Anyone who is acquainted with these works will immediately recognise in the poem
					certain references to vegetation ceremonies.</p>
				<section>
					<h3>I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD</h3>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-1">
						<p>Line 20. Cf. Ezekiel 2:1.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-2">
						<p>23. Cf. Ecclesiastes 12:5.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-3">
						<p>31. V. Tristan und Isolde, i, verses 5-8.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-4">
						<p>42. Id. iii, verse 24.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-5">
						<p>46. I am not familiar with the exact constitution of the Tarot pack of
							cards, from which I have obviously departed to suit my own convenience.
							The Hanged Man, a member of the traditional pack, fits my purpose in two
							ways: because he is associated in my mind with the Hanged God of Frazer,
							and because I associate him with the hooded figure in the passage of the
							disciples to Emmaus in Part V. The Phoenician Sailor and the Merchant
							appear later; also the "crowds of people," and Death by Water is
							executed in Part IV. The Man with Three Staves (an authentic member of
							the Tarot pack) I associate, quite arbitrarily, with the Fisher King
							himself.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-6">
						<p>60. Cf. Baudelaire:</p>
						<blockquote xml:lang="fr">
							<p>"Fourmillante cite;, cite; pleine de reves,<br />Ou le spectre en
								plein jour raccroche le passant."</p>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-7">
						<p>63. Cf. Inferno, iii. 55-7.</p>
						<blockquote xml:lang="it">
							<p>"si lunga tratta<br />di gente, ch'io non avrei mai creduto<br />che
								morte tanta n'avesse disfatta."</p>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-8">
						<p>64. Cf. Inferno, iv. 25-7:</p>
						<blockquote xml:lang="it">
							<p>"Quivi, secondo che per ascoltahre,<br />"non avea pianto, ma' che di
								sospiri,<br />"che l'aura eterna facevan tremare."</p>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-9">
						<p>68. A phenomenon which I have often noticed.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-10">
						<p>74. Cf. the Dirge in Webster's White Devil .</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-11">
						<p>76. V. Baudelaire, Preface to Fleurs du Mal.</p>
					</div>
				</section>
				<section>
					<h3>II. A GAME OF CHESS</h3>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-12">
						<p>77. Cf. Antony and Cleopatra, II. ii., l. 190.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-13">
						<p>92. Laquearia. V. Aeneid, I. 726:</p>
						<blockquote xml:lang="la">
							<p>dependent lychni laquearibus aureis incensi, et noctem
								flammis<br />funalia vincunt.</p>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-14">
						<p>98. Sylvan scene. V. Milton, Paradise Lost, iv. 140.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-15">
						<p>99. V. Ovid, Metamorphoses, vi, Philomela.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-16">
						<p>100. Cf. Part III, l. 204.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-17">
						<p>115. Cf. Part III, l. 195.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-18">
						<p>118. Cf. Webster:</p>
						<blockquote>
							<p>"Is the wind in that door still?"</p>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-19">
						<p>126. Cf. Part I, l. 37, 48.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-20">
						<p>138. Cf. the game of chess in Middleton's Women beware Women.</p>
					</div>
				</section>
				<section>
					<h3>III. THE FIRE SERMON</h3>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-21">
						<p>176. V. Spenser, Prothalamion.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-22">
						<p>192. Cf. The Tempest, I. ii.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-23">
						<p>196. Cf. Marvell, To His Coy Mistress.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-24">
						<p>197. Cf. Day, Parliament of Bees:</p>
						<blockquote>
							<div>
								<span class="ln">"When of the sudden, listening, you shall
									hear,</span>
								<span class="ln">"A noise of horns and hunting, which shall
									bring</span>
								<span class="ln">"Actaeon to Diana in the spring,</span>
								<span class="ln">"Where all shall see her naked skin . . ."</span>
							</div>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-25">
						<p>199. I do not know the origin of the ballad from which these lines are
							taken: it was reported to me from Sydney, Australia.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-26">
						<p>202. V. Verlaine, Parsifal.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-27">
						<p>210. The currants were quoted at a price "cost insurance and freight to
							London"; and the Bill of Lading etc. were to be handed to the buyer upon
							payment of the sight draft.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-28">
						<p>218. Tiresias, although a mere spectator and not indeed a "character," is
							yet the most important personage in the poem, uniting all the rest. Just
							as the one-eyed merchant, seller of currants, melts into the Phoenician
							Sailor, and the latter is not wholly distinct from Ferdinand Prince of
							Naples, so all the women are one woman, and the two sexes meet in
							Tiresias. What Tiresias sees, in fact, is the substance of the poem. The
							whole passage from Ovid is of great anthropological interest:</p>
						<blockquote xml:lang="la">
							<p>'. . . Cum Iunone iocos et maior vestra profecto est<br /> Quam, quae
								contingit maribus,' dixisse, 'voluptas.'<br /> Illa negat; placuit
								quae sit sententia docti<br /> Quaerere Tiresiae: venus huic erat
								utraque nota.<br /> Nam duo magnorum viridi coeuntia silva<br />
								Corpora serpentum baculi violaverat ictu<br /> Deque viro factus,
								mirabile, femina septem<br /> Egerat autumnos; octavo rursus
								eosdem<br /> Vidit et 'est vestrae si tanta potentia plagae,'<br />
								Dixit 'ut auctoris sortem in contraria mutet,<br /> Nunc quoque vos
								feriam!' percussis anguibus isdem<br /> Forma prior rediit
								genetivaque venit imago.<br /> Arbiter hic igitur sumptus de lite
								iocosa<br /> Dicta Iovis firmat; gravius Saturnia iusto<br /> Nec
								pro materia fertur doluisse suique<br /> Iudicis aeterna damnavit
								lumina nocte,<br /> At pater omnipotens (neque enim licet inrita
								cuiquam<br /> Facta dei fecisse deo) pro lumine adempto<br /> Scire
								futura dedit poenamque levavit honore.<br />
							</p>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-29">
						<p>221. This may not appear as exact as Sappho's lines, but I had in mind
							the "longshore" or "dory" fisherman, who returns at nightfall.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-30">
						<p>253. V. Goldsmith, the song in The Vicar of Wakefield.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-31">
						<p>257. V. The Tempest, as above.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-32">
						<p>264. The interior of St. Magnus Martyr is to my mind one of the finest
							among Wren's interiors. See The Proposed Demolition of Nineteen City
							Churches (P. S. King &amp; Son, Ltd.).</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-33">
						<p>266. The Song of the (three) Thames-daughters begins here. From line 292
							to 306 inclusive they speak in turn. V. Gutterdsammerung, III. i: the
							Rhine-daughters.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-34">
						<p>279. V. Froude, Elizabeth, Vol. I, ch. iv, letter of De Quadra to Philip
							of Spain:</p>
						<blockquote>
							<div>
								<span class="ln">"In the afternoon we were in a barge, watching the
									games on the river.</span>
								<span class="ln">(The queen) was alone with Lord Robert and myself
									on the poop,</span>
								<span class="ln">when they began to talk nonsense, and went so far
									that Lord Robert</span>
								<span class="ln">at last said, as I was on the spot there was no
									reason why they</span>
								<span class="ln">should not be married if the queen pleased."</span>
							</div>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-35">
						<p>293. Cf. Purgatorio, v. 133:</p>
						<blockquote>
							<p>"Ricorditi di me, che son la Pia;<br />Siena mi fe', disfecemi
								Maremma."</p>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-36">
						<p>307. V. St. Augustine's Confessions: "to Carthage then I came, where a
							cauldron of unholy loves sang all about mine ears."</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-37">
						<p>308. The complete text of the Buddha's Fire Sermon (which corresponds in
							importance to the Sermon on the Mount) from which these words are taken,
							will be found translated in the late Henry Clarke Warren's Buddhism in
							Translation (Harvard Oriental Series). Mr. Warren was one of the great
							pioneers of Buddhist studies in the Occident.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-38">
						<p>309. From St. Augustine's Confessions again. The collocation of these two
							representatives of eastern and western asceticism, as the culmination of
							this part of the poem, is not an accident.</p>
					</div>
				</section>
				<section>
					<h3>V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAID</h3>
					<p>In the first part of Part V three themes are employed: the journey to Emmaus,
						the approach to the Chapel Perilous (see Miss Weston's book) and the present
						decay of eastern Europe.</p>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-39">
						<p>357. This is Turdus aonalaschkae pallasii, the hermit-thrush which I have
							heard in Quebec County. Chapman says (Handbook of Birds of Eastern North
							America) "it is most at home in secluded woodland and thickety retreats.
							. . . Its notes are not remarkable for variety or volume, but in purity
							and sweetness of tone and exquisite modulation they are unequalled." Its
							"water-dripping song" is justly celebrated.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-40">
						<p>360. The following lines were stimulated by the account of one of the
							Antarctic expeditions (I forget which, but I think one of Shackleton's):
							it was related that the party of explorers, at the extremity of their
							strength, had the constant delusion that there was one more member than
							could actually be counted.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-41">
						<p>367-77. Cf. Hermann Hesse, Blick ins Chaos:</p>
						<blockquote xml:lang="de">
							<p>"Schon ist halb Europa, schon ist zumindest der halbe Osten Europas
								auf dem<br /> Wege zum Chaos, fhrt betrunken im heiligem Wahn am
								Abgrund entlang<br /> und singt dazu, singt betrunken und hymnisch
								wie Dmitri Karamasoff sang.<br /> Ueber diese Lieder lacht der
								Bsrger beleidigt, der Heilige<br /> und Seher hrt sie mit
								Trvnen."</p>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-42">
						<p>402. <q xml:lang="sa">"Datta, dayadhvam, damyata"</q> (Give, sympathize,
							control). The fable of the meaning of the Thunder is found in the
							Brihadaranyaka-Upanishad, 5, 1. A translation is found in Deussen's
							Sechzig Upanishads des Veda, p. 489.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-43">
						<p>408. Cf. Webster, The White Devil, v. vi:</p>
						<blockquote>
							<p>". . . they'll remarry<br /> Ere the worm pierce your winding-sheet,
								ere the spider<br /> Make a thin curtain for your epitaphs."</p>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-44">
						<p>412. Cf. Inferno, xxxiii. 46:</p>
						<blockquote xml:lang="it">
							<p>"ed io sentii chiavar l'uscio di sotto<br /> all'orribile torre."</p>
						</blockquote>
						<p>Also F. H. Bradley, Appearance and Reality, p. 346:</p>
						<blockquote>
							<p>"My external sensations are no less private to myself than are my
								thoughts or my feelings. In either case my experience falls within
								my own circle, a circle closed on the outside; and, with all its
								elements alike, every sphere is opaque to the others which surround
								it. . . . In brief, regarded as an existence which appears in a
								soul, the whole world for each is peculiar and private to that
								soul."</p>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-45">
						<p>425. V. Weston, From Ritual to Romance; chapter on the Fisher King.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-46">
						<p>428. V. Purgatorio, xxvi. 148.</p>
						<blockquote xml:lang="it">
							<p>"'Ara vos prec per aquella valor<br /> 'que vos guida al som de
								l'escalina,<br /> 'sovegna vos a temps de ma dolor.'<br /> Poi
								s'ascose nel foco che gli affina."</p>
						</blockquote>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-47">
						<p>429. V. Pervigilium Veneris. Cf. Philomela in Parts II and III.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-48">
						<p>430. V. Gerard de Nerval, Sonnet El Desdichado.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-49">
						<p>432. V. Kyd's Spanish Tragedy.</p>
					</div>
					<div epub:type="endnote" id="note-50">
						<p>434. Shantih. Repeated as here, a formal ending to an Upanishad. 'The
							Peace which passeth understanding' is a feeble translation of the
							content of this word.</p>
					</div>
				</section>
			</section>
		</section>
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